


in color

by liquidBenedryl



Series: this spectral veil holds you softly [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin and Padmé stayed in contact, F/M, Flirting, Grief/Mourning, Suspicious Obi-Wan, alternating povs, for good reason, there's a lot to unpack here, these two dorks smh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidBenedryl/pseuds/liquidBenedryl
Summary: "Ani!" Senator Amidala greets cheerfully. "You got so tall!""Senator!" Anakin says, equally bright. "You've gotten so beautiful!"Obi-Wan glances between them. That was... oddly smooth, for Anakin.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, mention of Aayla Secura/Anakin Skywalker
Series: this spectral veil holds you softly [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692439
Comments: 27
Kudos: 251





	in color

**Author's Note:**

> guys all the comments for the first part of this series just. KILLED me. i love feedback so much i love ya'll
> 
> my uncreative title referring to the fact that the holotranseivers are in blue, so- haha, i'm so clever, when they meet in person it's _in color _. get it? i'm a comedian__

Maybe it’s a bit uncharitable of him to think it, but Obi-Wan wishes Anakin were a bit less obviously pleased with this assignment.

“The Chancellor would like you to protect the Senator until the threat is over,” Master Windu had relayed over an hour ago, and honestly, it was a miracle that they hadn’t lost the job right then and there, with how his Padawan had straightened- so quickly that surely he must’ve strained something.

It’s only now, as they step into the lift that will take them to the floor she’s on, that he sees Anakin take a deep breath and let his eyes fall closed for a long moment- Obi-Wan can feel it as he dips into a half-meditation, as he so easily does.

Obi-Wan will never admit it right to Anakin’s face, but he is horribly jealous that Anakin doesn’t have to sit in place for long periods of time to do it like everyone else. He rationalizes it to himself as Anakin being the Chosen One- of course he’d have more ease interacting with the Force.

It better be because he’s the Chosen One, because if it turns out Obi-Wan has been doing it wrong for years, he’ll hurl himself off this building at the first opportunity.

He can feel it as Anakin’s side of their training bond flexes and settles, can feel it as he centers himself firmly.

He is, admittedly, quite impressed.

“Looking forward to seeing her again?” He asks frankly, looking over at him.

Anakin opens his eyes and smiles, just a bit- tinged with nerves, for a moment, before it slips away.

How in the _blazes_ is it that he can arrange his emotions expertly in these sort of situations, yet _never_ does it properly during their actual meditation times?

“A bit, yeah,” Anakin admits. Which he really _shouldn’t_ admit, Obi-Wan thinks.

Attachments are forbidden, after all.

It always strikes him as odd, that the Council tends to give Jedi missions that involve people they’ve become acquainted with before- isn’t that risky? It’s Human nature to become attached to people after spending enough time with them.

“Something wrong?” Anakin asks, eyeing him keenly.

Obi-Wan tightens his shields. No need to stir up concern when there may yet be no reason for it. “It’s been awhile since I was given a mission which requires such… diligence.” 

Anakin makes an agreeable sound, grasping his lightsaber for a moment.

At least Anakin tends to thrive in situations that mean action. For some damnable reason, Obi-Wan is forever assigned to political tasks- which he does excel at, granted, as much as he prefers guarding and strategy.

“Are _you_ nervous?” He asks in return.

“A little,” Anakin answers easily- _too_ easily, for all that he tends to keep his feelings close to his chest. He seems to realize it, because he continues quickly, “not enough to jeopardize the mission, though.”

Obi-Wan considers needling him, but the lift slowing to a stop makes the decision for him.

He braces himself for dealing with Jar Jar. He knows that all Gungans tend to have odd speech patterns when they speak in Basic, but he’s honest enough with himself to acknowledge that it tends to get on his nerves.

“Obi!” Jar Jar shouts in greeting as he realizes that it is indeed Obi-Wan standing before him.

“Jar Jar,” he greets, shaking the Gungan’s hand- the skin is somehow as smooth as Master Fisto’s while still being rough, like a Human with thicker fingerprints. “How’s delegate life treating you?”

“Lots of people and names,” is the response, said in a voice like this is the worst thing ever. Obi-Wan wonders just how many names the Gungan has botched as he watches him greet Anakin enthusiastically, giving him the same shoulder-jarring handshake.

“Follow me, follow me,” Jar Jar says, motioning toward them as he sets off down the hall. “Thisa way.”

Obi-Wan and Anakin share a bemused look, trailing after him.

“Senator Amidala!” Jar Jar calls as they enter a room with a frankly absurd number of windows for someone who had recently experienced an attemped murder. “Mesa palos here!”

Amidala, who had her back facing them to look out over the city when they entered, turns to look at them. A smile breaks out on her face as she makes her way over.

“It’s good to see you again, Senator,” Obi-Wan greets cordially, caught between a bow and a handshake for a moment before he just decides to do both.

“You as well, Master Kenobi,” she replies in kind as she shakes his hand. He wonders how they make someone who so easily held a blaster at fourteen look harmless. Must be the clothing. She looks him over for a moment, cataloging changes as he resists the urge to fidget. It’s always off-putting seeing acquaintances again after years without contact.

She looks over his shoulder, and positively lights up.

Obi-Wan has an awfully bad feeling about this.

“Ani!” She says cheerfully, looking a moment away from attempting a hug. “You got so tall!”

“Senator Amidala,” he returns, grinning. “You got so beautiful!”

Obi-Wan glances quickly between the two of them. That was... awfully smooth, for Anakin.

Padmé makes a mock offended sound. “Are you saying I wasn’t beautiful at fourteen?”

“I called you an angel when you were fourteen,” he says dryly.

The dark skinned man standing idly behind Senator Amidala raises his brows. “You know these Jedi?”

“Oh, of course- Captain Typho, these are Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and his Padawan, Anakin Skywalker. I met them when Naboo was under siege ten years ago. Master Kenobi and Anakin, this is Captain Typho, the head of my security.”

Obi-Wan eyes the man consideringly, trying to gauge how he feels about having Jedi step in. More than once, Obi-Wan has encountered people who become offended at interference. “We certainly don’t wish to step on any toes,” he starts.

“You aren’t,” the man interrupts good-naturedly. “Except perhaps the Senator’s, who doesn’t want to admit how dire the situation is.”

Amidala makes an irritated sound. “I don’t want _protection._ I want _answers,_ ” she says as they drift over to sit on the couches in the center of the room.

A ping of interest echoes through the training bond he shares with Anakin, and he gives his Padawan a sharp, warning look. _No,_ he thinks forcefully.

“Answers to what?” Anakin asks, because he’s a _brat_ who never listens.

“To who’s trying to have me killed,” she answers, crossing her arms and giving Captain Typho an irritated look.

Obi-Wan assumes she's already had this argument. By Typho's long-suffering look, maybe even multiple times.

“We’re only here for your protection, as the Chancellor and Jedi Council agreed upon,” Obi-Wan says carefully. “Not to investigate.”

Anakin opens his mouth- probably to say something rude about the Council and their decisions in general, but Obi-Wan sends him the mental equivalent of a flick to the head. His mouth snaps shut. For about a second.

“It’s practically implied that we investigate,” Anakin mutters. “Jedi for protection is just overkill.”

Why couldn’t Anakin have been as easy to deal with as Aayla? _She_ listens to him, at least.

“The Chancellor is a personal acquaintance of mine,” Amidala says after a moment. “He probably just wants to be sure I’ll be safe.”

“Playing favorites,” Anakin remarks.

Obi-Wan heroically resists the urge to strangle him. _Not_ proper conversation to have while on an assigned task. “I’m sure he’d put forth the same effort for anyone else in this situation,” he says smoothly, and also completely unconvincingly.

Typho looks between them with an unsure expression. Amidala’s lips twitch, like Obi-Wan has just made a clever joke. “Sure he would,” she says. While Obi-Wan flounders for a response, she sighs. “Well, I’ll leave you to discuss the security. I have a few things to take care of before I retire for the night.”

She gets along way too well with Anakin for Obi-Wan to take her easy cooperation at face value. He hopes, for all their sakes, that she doesn’t do something ill advised.

~*~

“There are _so many windows,_ ” Anakin says in an aggrieved voice.

Obi-Wan was thinking along similar lines. Practically the entire wall of the main room is clear. It doesn’t seem very logical. “They’re transparisteel, at least” he points out.

“Doesn’t change the fact that anyone could fly past and see perfectly well through them.”

A fair point. “There are blinders?” Obi-Wan suggests.

The building _does_ have one-way blinders, thankfully- most likely a perk of the handful of scandals that were witnessed in Coruscant before they were installed all over the upper level of the planet.

After they figure out where the controls for the windows are, and activate them, Obi-Wan slowly walks from one end of the floor to the other. He lets his Force sense stretch out around him. Anakin, meanwhile, stays in the sitting room- close to Amidala’s rooms, in case someone attempts something more subtle than fighting through layers of security on every level below them.

It's going to be a long mission, Obi-Wan thinks tiredly.

~*~

Later, after an assassination attempt using _bugs,_ of all things, a fun little high speed chase in which Obi-Wan confronted their perpetrator in the middle of a crowded bar (which will certainly end up on the holonet), and a frankly suspiciously flattering conversation with Palpatine in which he was repeatedly complemented even though he’s done relatively little to deserve it, Anakin and Padmé end up on Naboo, in a private residence.

Padmé very much dislikes it, and expresses it. Vocally.

“I can’t figure out what’s happening with the Senate when I’m here,” she says in aggravation, throwing up her hands. She's pacing along next to the rail at the edge of the terrace. It's actually a bit hard to look at her, with the sun shining brightly behind her. “There’s no outside contact allowed.”

Anakin makes a sympathetic noise, distracted with his own thoughts. He's already heard several variations of that complaint, anyway.

He isn’t really well versed in political skills, but he’s listened to enough of Obi-Wan’s admittedly educational rants that this whole thing seems a bit _off_ to him. Surely, Padmé would be safer in the confines of the heavily guarded Parliament building? And no matter what the Council says, he _knows_ they shouldn’t have enough trust in him to be sure in his success guarding her. If there’s one thing Palpatine’s said that he agrees with, it’s that the Jedi Council always has, and perhaps always will, look at him with a hint of suspicion.

Maybe he's overthinking this, though. He knows himself well enough to admit that this whole thing chafes at him; it feels like a retreat, like they’re hiding away instead of facing the threat.

His eyes follow her absently as she turns to pace back to the other end, and reflects on how he is definitely enjoying the sight of her in the airy, vibrantly colored dress a little too much.

“You really have gotten more beautiful,” he says absently, then freezes, wishing he could melt through the terrace and into the ground. Padmé looks at him with shock, pausing in her tracks. Color rises to her cheeks, and there’s a moment of suspended silence.

“That was poorly timed,” he blurts. “And rude. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t rude,” she says immediately, blinking at him. She frowns gently. “Poorly timed, though, yes.”

He snorts, slumping down to sit against the pillar he’s been leaning against. “Sorry,” he repeats.

“It’s fine,” she says with amusement. Then, “Thank you.”

“Uh- you’re welcome?”

“You’re very pretty, too,” she says teasingly.

He sputters indignantly. “I am _ruggishly handsome._ "

“Sure you are, Ani.”

He glares at her, crossing his arms. “I seem to recall being compared to a muscular, _universally_ _attractive_ character in Crossed Stars,” he says, referring to a movie they had watched a few months ago, and-

He... made their holotransiever connections secure and hidden, didn’t he?

“I could get you a connection to the Senate,” he says slowly, thinking it out.

She blinks at him in confusion, before realization colors her face. “You know how to make private networks.”

“I know how to make private networks,” he repeats in confirmation.

“What do you need to do it?”

He probably should have expected that she would immediately be on board, he thinks wryly.

“I’m assuming that you have a holonet connection here that’s just been turned off?” He says, and gets a nod in response. “Well, I’ll have to remotely access the network and cut it off from Naboo while we do this, for one, but that’s not too hard. It would be easiest to hook a computer into it, but a datapad will do if there isn’t one available.”

It actually ends up being _way_ easier than he was expecting. For some reason, a part of him had thought there would be stronger resistance- that someone would have set up multiple levels of protection against them being able to contact the outside world.

It’s an alarming thought- especially because the Force twitches at the edge of his senses, telling him that there’s certainly _something_ wrong.

Maybe he had just hoped that it would be this.

“Done,” he yells down the hall after about twenty minutes, standing and stretching.

A few moments later, Padmé steps through the doorway, her hair loose and cascading down her back in a careless tangle. She looks like she just got up from lying on a couch.

“Have a nice nap?” He asks with a grin.

She gives him a tiredly amused look. “I wish. I’m too worried about the Senate to sleep.”

“Think they’ll collapse without you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s probably true, though.”

Padmé snorts. “I think the hundreds of other Senators would survive without me.”

“Debatable,” Anakin says, watching idly as Padmé settles in the chair and pulls up the Coruscant Senate stream. It’s offline, right now, but it’s enough to know it’s working.

“Thank you for this, Ani.”

He hums. “Anything to get you to stop whining.”

Without hesitation, she rises from her seat to whap him on the shoulder.

~*~

“For a mission to hide you from the public, this feels a lot like a vacation,” Anakin thinks aloud as he floats on his back on the surface of the stretching lake, squinting up at the sky.

Padmé, watching him from her perch on the edge of the stone path leading over to the stairs, chuckles. “It does, doesn’t it? I bet you’re just dying for action at this point.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be in danger,” he replies, frowning a bit as he tips over to tread water, facing her.

“I’m touched,” she says with a crooked smile, sounding like she honestly means it.

He has literally no idea how to respond to that. Urgh, genuine emotions.

“It _is_ still my job to protect you,” he reminds her, cocking a brow.

“And you’re doing a very good job,” she says with mock seriousness, nodding her head.

“I’ll have you know that I could be out of this water and armed in a few seconds.”

“Prove it,” she says, and yelps as he immediately Force launches himself out of the water and onto the stone, calling his lightsaber to his hand and standing in a defensive stance by her side. It takes less than five seconds, even if he has to stiffen his muscles as a wave of dizziness at the fast change causes.

She stares at him. “Oh my stars, Anakin. You utter _dweeb._ ”

He makes a scandalized noise of protest. “I am a _fierce Jedi warrior._ ”

“A fierce Jedi warrior who carries little kids around to help them find their parents, yes.”

In his opinion, that actually puts him a bit _above_ other Jedi. _They_ sure as hell never do it. Probably better not to say that, though.

 _Arrogance is unbecoming of a Jedi_ , Obi-Wan’s voice echoes in his head. That’s a lecture he’s gotten enough that he’d be able to recite it on command.

“I have carried _multiple children at once._ That takes _effort._ ”

Padmé pauses, glancing down at Anakin’s bare chest. She _very obviously_ eyes his muscles, and Anakin has to wonder for a moment if it’s possible to spontaneously combust from how quickly a flush rises to his face.

“Obviously,” she says, grinning rakishly at him.

Are they _flirting,_ now? Is that something they’re doing? Holy shit, he thinks. He hasn’t flirted since before Master Quinlan found out he slept with Aayla back when he was seventeen.

(It had been more for the experience of it than anything, and they had spent a good few days flirting just for fun whenever they saw each other- right up until Master Quinlan went into Aayla’s quarters to get something for her _with his gloves off_ and _touched Aayla’s bed._ There had been a mortifying few months where the man wouldn’t stop throwing innuendos at them.)

“I don’t look anywhere near as pretty as you do when I do it,” he says, rising to the challenge.

“No, I’m sure you’re a panting, sweaty mess,” she responds, and then her entire face promptly turns bright red as she puts a hand over her eyes, letting out a mournful sound.

Damn, Anakin thinks with stunned amusement. “ _Wow,_ ” he wheezes, descending into laughter. “ _Holy kriff, Padmé_.”

“I’m sorry,” she gasps though a bout of giggles. “That just slipped right out-”

“It’s _fine,_ it’s- stars, I don’t think I can outdo that.”

She smiles, face still flushed, and looks up at him through her eyelashes. He falters. “You can try,” she suggests.

He stares at her for a moment, remembering just who this is- just where they are, and what they’re doing. This doesn’t feel like a joke, the way he and Aayla had done it. There’s something important here, and he doesn’t- he would hate to do something that would ruin the easy friendship they have right now.

“Is this- is this real?” He asks hesitantly, watching as she blinks at him.

She straightens, looking straight up at him. They’re close enough that she could grab his leg right now, and he’s suddenly very aware of it. She opens her mouth. Closes it, visibly considers, then says, “If that’s- if it’s alright?”

He takes a few steps back to lean against one of the square pillars that frame the stairs leading up to the villa. “You could probably do better,” he says slowly.

“I probably could,” she agrees easily, the corners of her lips twitching.

“Well. I’ve broken practically every other Jedi rule already,” he says thoughtfully, as if only now deciding that he’d be willing to choose her over his sworn duty.

It’s a given, he thinks. He’d throw duty to the side for those close to him at the first sign that it’s necessary.

She rises to her feet, locks eyes with him, and steps close.

There’s a long moment where they just stand, almost chest to chest. Then Anakin leans down, and she faces up, and- it’s chaste, the kiss. A press of lips for a few seconds before they drift apart.

Padmé looks up at him, and they hover there, close enough that Anakin can feel her breath puff against his chin. Another kiss, quick but gentle-

Then Padmé steps back, pats his chest, and says, “You’re soaking wet. Go dry off.”

He blinks at her stupidly for a moment before his brain catches up. He huffs a laugh. “As milady wishes,” he says cheekily.

~*~

It’s nice, after- there’s more touching, a few more hesitant kisses when they’re inside, like some part of them worries about watching eyes, even so far out.

Nothing makes the dreams stop, though.

As soon as Anakin explains why it is, exactly, that the bags under his eyes grow with exhaustion, why he’s always up before her, staring out at the water, she gives him a hard look and says, “Ani. I don’t care what the Jedi try to make you believe. Shmi is your mother, and we both know you still love her. If you want to check on her, I won’t stop you.”

“I _can’t,_ ” he stresses, even over the buzzing in his head that hasn’t gone away for almost two days now. “I can’t leave, not without the Council’s permission, and not while I’m guarding _you-”_

“Well,” she says with a haughty sniff, “a shame that all communication is cut off, then, and that you were forced to follow me when I decided to pay a visit to Tatooine.”

He stares at her, eyes wide.

It’s frightening, the intensity of the love she feels for her right at that moment.

“I’m preparing a ship,” she says firmly, turning and marching into the building. “You have no choice but to accompany me.”

“Padmé,” he breathes. She pauses, looking at him over her shoulder expectantly. “Thank you.”

She smiles softly. “You’d do the same for me.”

~*~

There’s a certain horror of being able to feel it as someone’s life drains away.

They had talked about it, briefly, when he still attended lessons daily in the Temple. Some parts of the Force just aren't optional, Master Shaak Ti had said gently. Someday they may have a mission in which they can't protect their charge, or will have to take a life in order to defend their own. Their Masters would always be there to help, she had continued. Every Jedi Master had experienced it at some point.

He had felt it before, in incredibly small scale- rats starving in alleys, or the passing of a soul several streets away.

So had known it from the moment he touched his mother’s skin. But some part of him had shied away from it, had forced it down and tried to ignore it, stubbornly refusing to accept it.

“I love you,” she had said, and now Anakin’s sitting in a shitty tent with his mother dead in his arms, a quiet fury blazing to life.

He should kill them, he thinks fiercely. He should _slaughter them-_

There was _no reason for this,_ he thinks wildly- there was no reason for them to do this, for them to take an innocent woman away from the family she fought all her life for-

He’s already on his feet, hand hovering over his lightsaber, when sense slams into him.

There are children here, he thinks, clenching his hands. There are- he imagines all the countless children that he’s guided through the lower levels of Coruscant, remembers Rohan’s little sister playing with his hair as he fixed her game. Thinks of the trust in their eyes, the innocence.

He hates these people, he thinks. But he will not become a horror story told to children in the dark.

Obi-Wan taught him better than that.

He blinks quickly, wrestling down the crushing sorrow and panic trying to take over- he can’t afford it, not right now. He has to get his mother out of here, has to- he _refuses_ to leave her body to these savages.

He barely even remembers the trip back. He knows that he slips out the back of the tent, that at some point he covers her body. But he blinks, and suddenly he’s standing in front of Cliegg, the man that his mother married.

What a family reunion, he thinks a bit hysterically, watching the man’s face crumple as he sees the body in Anakin’s arms.

~*~

He should blink, he thinks. It's dry, on Tatooine, and the fire burning before him isn't helping. The flames are hot, scalding, and the acrid smoke stings his throat, makes him want to turn away and get as far as possible- away from this planet, away from this family he's never met and yet he is now tied intrinsically to, away from- away from the body of his mother burning to ashes in front of him.

His skin crawls. He wants to stop existing, for a moment. Wants the world to pause and give him a moment to reorient himself.

Suddenly, the Jedi practice of shedding all emotions off into the Force makes an astounding sort of sense.

"Anakin," Padmé says, horribly, achingly gentle by his side. "It's al _right_ , Ani," she tells him, pressing her side against his. "You're allowed to cry." She doesn’t look over at him, and he’s grateful. She’s his best friend, but this- this is new, to him. He feels scraped raw, all his carefully hidden insides exposed for all to see.

Anakin stares into the pyre, his breath catching painfully. He closes his eyes, and the tears he had refused to acknowledge slip from his eyelashes and down his face.

~*~

Much later, after war is declared and the Jedi are told they will be Generals, Anakin stares up at the immaculate ceiling of the Temple and tells Obi-Wan, voice blank, “My mother is dead.”

And Obi-Wan looks at him, looking horribly sad, and whispers, “Oh, _Anakin."_

**Author's Note:**

> i had to watch the beginning of AOTC for this and I just. "guess i was wrong. no danger at all." INSTANT EXPLOSION. i strive to be that funny.
> 
> on another note, the next installment of this series is going to have CLONES! It'll be multiple chapters, going into detail of the Jedi adjusting to becoming Generals when they've only ever been peacekeepers- and will feature Anakin in armour, a lot of borrowed clone headcannons from tumblr, and, as all Anakin+Clones fics should have, angsty comparisons to slavery. stay tuned.
> 
> also, we're not doing Obi/Padme/Anakin, folks. instead there's going to be a lot of fun with another ship with Obi later (if you have one you favor, do tell, because i'm open to changing my plans. even _I _don't know where this is going :D)__


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